


Dionysian Dreams

by musicin68



Category: The Expanse (TV)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Dreaming sex, Drinking, Drunk Sex, F/F, Feelings, Sex, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:27:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26725906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicin68/pseuds/musicin68
Summary: Bobbie told Chrisjen off after dinner, but who has the last word?Set during S04E02. Spoilers through that episode.
Relationships: Chrisjen Avasarala/Bobbie Draper
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	Dionysian Dreams

The ex-marine was late. Usually she showed up alone just after quitting time, had a drink and a meal, sometimes a few drinks, and then left. Tonight though, she had shown up well after the dinner hour. The crowd was younger at this time; the party set rather than the worn out workers that made up the earlier shift. Ty wiped down the bar as he watched her and the growing line of empties in front of her. A couple young bucks and even a 40s something woman had made a play for the hunched figure sitting alone at the end of the bar. She hadn’t been violent yet, but she had been loud, vulgar, and intimidating.

Ty moved her way as she waved for another drink. What he really wanted to do was cut her off, but she hadn’t quite given him enough reason to do so. That, and she was easily twice his size. He watered it well, she certainly wouldn’t notice at this point, and passed it to her.

“Fuck her. This is all her fault.”

Ty nodded. He didn’t know who ‘her’ was, and it didn’t really matter. What mattered was finding a way to ease the her currently drinking herself into a stupor out the door.

“She did this to me. I was happy before. I was happy,” she said firmly.

“Were you really?”

“Fuck yeah, I was. I had everything. No one questioned my loyalties, I had my unit, and I served Mars!”

“We all do our part.”

“Not all of us,” she snarled bitterly. “The higher ups, Captain Martens, they sold out Travis. He fucking died for Mars, and they sold him out. Like he was nothing. She saw right through them, though. She...I guess, the first time wasn’t her fault exactly. She didn’t plan it. She just...took advantage of the situation. Should be her fucking middle name.”

Ty hummed vaguely.

“That or ‘Fuck All You Cunts.’” The woman barked out a laugh and took a drink. “She thinks she’s so fucking smart. I mean...she is smart. Too goddamn fucking smart for her own good. For any of us. And she picked me. I don’t know why the fuck she picked me.”

“She wouldn’t say? That’s typical, eh?”

Ty flinched as her glass banged down on the bar top. “I’m not glorious! She’s so full of shit. It’s all lies and her stupid game! How can you tell what’s real?”

Drinking yourself into oblivion didn’t generally help with that, but Ty felt it wiser to remain silent. He shrugged.

“I don’t know anymore. It...it felt real. When she needed me. Not now. Now, I scrap ships for a living, and I have nothing! No marines, no honor, even Mars would rather I disappeared. Dishonorable. Discharge. I don’t,” she was close to crying now. ”Don’t...” She shook her head, scowling away the tears. “And she just waltzes in and expects me to sit up and beg. ‘Oh, thank you, Madam, for the crumbs from your table, Madam.’ The fucking scraps. I may have lost everything, but I will not scrape and bow to the fucking Queen.”

Ty nodded. “No one should be treated like that.”

“You’re damn right! I’m a human being, not her goddamn plaything! I’ll save myself. And I ...did I tell her?”

“Tell her what?”

“Tell her? Fuck her, that’s what.” The marine slid a pay chit Ty’s way, and drained her glass a final time.

He ran it, adding a perfectly reasonable tip of course, and began to clear the glasses in front of her. “I know breakups are rough, but you’ll feel better once she’s out of your system.”

The woman’s face fell as she pushed away from the bar. “It’s her fucking system.”

* * *

Bobbie stumbled as she left the bar. Angry, she was still so angry. And drunk. She didn’t remember the last time she had been this drunk. She needed a metabolizer, but she wasn’t in the military anymore. Not something she could get her hands on now.

Fuck.

Fuck that dinner. Bobbie passed someone in a dark blue uniform, and she straightened unconsciously as they watched her walk past.

Fuck the seating chart. Like that wasn’t designed to be humiliating. Officers whispering about her insubordination on one side and Arjun Avasarala on the other. How was that going to be anything but awkward? Where did Chrisjen get off? Other than on Bobbie’s fingers and tongue for two fucking months in the belt. She hadn’t seen her in nearly a year, and she still sometimes woke up in a sweat with the Earther’s name on her lips.

Fuck Chrisjen, and fuck that incredible dress she had been wearing. It just wasn’t at all believable. How could she want Bobbie after everything she had done? No one else did.

A soldier appeared in front of her. “I.D. please.”

“What? I...Roberta Draper.” Where was she?

“She’s cleared,” called a second soldier.

The first nodded and waved Bobbie on. Completely lost now, Bobbie wandered forward trying to figure out where she was. Had she been here before? A door opened, and she walked through.

Chrisjen ‘Fuck All You Cunts’ Avasarala...no, Bobbie decided, it took too long to get out...had been curled in a chair with a terminal, wearing what were almost certainly real silk pajamas. She looked up with a small smile as Bobbie entered. “I didn’t expect you back this evening. Did you change your mind?”

“I didn’t...where’s...?” She looked helplessly around the room.

“Arjun? In bed. If you didn’t change your mind, what can I do for you, Bobbie?” How could she sound so fucking earnest?

“You can...you can leave me the fuck alone is what you can do.” She was here, and there weren’t aides hiding behind every potted plant, Bobbie didn’t think. She could give the presumptuous woman a piece of her mind.

“I had assumed that from our last conversation. Was there something else?”

“Yeah, yeah there fucking is. You can’t treat people like that!”

“Like what?”

“Don’t act so goddamn innocent! You can’t lie to people just so they’ll do what you want!”

Chrisjen was watching her carefully, no she wasn’t watching, she was searching, searching for Bobbie’s weak point. “I haven’t lied to you Bobbie.”

“You lie to everyone! None of what you say is true! It’s all a game and it...it hurts.”

“Bobbie, how much have you had to drink this evening?”

“None of your goddamn business is it? You’re not my mother. If...if you really cared about me you’d be honest. You’d tell me the truth!”

“Bobbie, sit down.”

“No, I’m—”

“Sit the fuck down!”

Bobbie sat. Or fell, onto a couch that was too wide and too soft. It threatened to suck her down into a spinning kalaidascope of Chrisjen. She was hovering over Bobbie, the lights sparkling around her like the gemstones she had worn that evening. Too beautiful.

“I’m not what you said. I’m a deserter, insubordinate...a killer.” Bobbie tried to bite out the words, to be as uncaring and jaded as she ought, but Chrisjen’s penetrating gaze saw everything. She always saw everything; she could see right through the former Martian marine.

Bobbie waited for her to speak, for the silver tongued viper to muddle her mind with well-reasoned words, to command her loyalties, to sway her to Earth. But Chrisjen merely watched her. Tears pricked Bobbie’s eyes. “Say something.” Chrisjen shook her head, her hands wiping the moisture away from Bobbie’s cheeks. She was so close. Bobbie leaned upwards awkwardly trying to kiss her, but the other woman pulled ever so slightly away. Her eyes filled with something Bobbie couldn’t identify. “I don’t...know what to do anymore.”

“You will.” Chrisjen placed a chaste kiss on Bobbie’s forehead and then moved out of her line of sight.

Bobbie felt her self-loathing welling up inside, threatening to stretch on to infinity like the ocean she had only seen the one time. She pushed herself up on her elbows; she should leave before she passed out.

Chrisjen was back with something in her hand, and the slippery fabric of her pant leg brushed against Bobbie’s. She grabbed it unthinkingly, scrunching it in her fingers. It was cool, smooth to the touch, utterly decadent, just like Chrisjen herself. Fuck it all. Bobbie reached up and tangled her hand in Chrisjen’s hair. She let go of the fabric by her hip and reached for the older woman’s breast, thumbing the nipple to rigidity through the silk as she kissed her.

The Secretary General of Earth’s United Nations hissed out a breath, and Bobbie fell back onto the cushions, the room spinning around her. Then Chrisjen’s hands were moving over her body, immaculately lacquered nails scraping their way along her skin. Fondling, grasping, pinching, kneading. Bobbie would have reciprocated if only Chrisjen would have held still. Her waistband was unfastened, and one agile hand slipped into the fabric constrained space between her legs. Bobbie bucked and swore as Chrisjen’s slicked fingers worked to bring her to the point of ecstasy. Then she was coming hard. And then again, in synodic explosions that radiated from her core in tight, uncontrollable waves, as those skillful digits drove each and every celestial body to conjunction before her.

Bobbie lay boneless as the last echoes of her orgasms faded. What was it she had wanted to say? Fuck. She was asleep before she could remember.

* * *

Bobbie’s alarm went off at 7 o’clock Central Martian Time, and she blinked wearily. She had been dreaming. About she and Chrisjen fucking again no less. Not shocking after that stupid dinner last night she supposed. What a mess. She had pretty much burned that bridge to the ground.

She didn’t remember getting home though. She had gone to the bar. Bobbie rolled over and picked her credit chit up off the night stand and groaned at the expense she saw there. That explained why she didn’t remember getting home. She sat up. No bruised knuckles or sore muscles, so she couldn’t have gotten into too much trouble. Bobbie rolled her head from side to side; she didn’t feel hung over at all. How odd.

She set the chit back down and picked up a familiar looking injector. Metabolizer. Well, mystery solved. The ex-marine stripped out of last night’s clothes and got into the shower. The song she found herself humming in the shower came to an abrupt stop. Metabolizer? Now how had she managed to get her hands on that?


End file.
